Gravitation: Microphone
by Althea SaDiablo
Summary: Ryuuki has an Idea, and tests it out at one of Butterfly Cage's major concerts.


**Author's note:** In honor of the Nightmare concert I attended tonight, I decided to post this little fic-- just a random scene from my Gravitation AU, one that I wrote a while ago. For the cause of great 3v1l!

* * *

**xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx**

"Lights, check. Pyrotechnics, check. Remember, people, this is the biggest concert to date-- it's gotta be good to justify the HEPP venue."

"You mean it has to be great," Kouyuu said with a shake of his newly-died aqua hair. "I want two double-keyboard XQVs up there this time, _and_ the Bosendorfer."

"You'll have them," Shou nodded shortly. "Requests, Shuuei?"

"Just the usual. Oh, and don't set me on fire, I can do that plenty well myself." The handsome guitarist grinned, self-assured and easy. "Long as my backup's on the stand I'm good to go."

Shou didn't bother to note it down; Shuuei's backup blade was part of the standard setup. "Ryuuki?"

"Huh? Something special?" The lead singer snapped back to focus from where he'd been staring vacuously out the window. "Umm. Maybe a mike? Yeah, a mike would be good."

Shou tapped his pen on the equipment list. "You'll have the wireless box-- what do you need a mike for?"

"The box isn't cool at all," Ryuuki protested. "A mike is much better-- and not a wireless one, a corded one."

"You want a corded mike?" Kouyuu frowned. "What are we going to do when you trip on the cord and fall off the stage?"

"Hey! What do you mean 'when?'" Ryuuki folded his arms and glowered. "I'm not a klutz!"

"You trip on the straps of your pants about ten times a day," Shuuei pointed out. "What do you want to be tied down with a mike for, anyway? You're usually all over the place."

"I think it'll be good," Ryuuki said, vague as ever. "Oh, and not just any mike-- I want a Unidyne II."

"You want to go on stage with an antique?" Shou raised his eyebrows.

"If it was good enough for Elvis, it's good enough for me!" Ryuuki nodded definitely and crossed his arms.

Kouyuu was looking torn over who he should smack, himself or one of his band mates. He settled for Ryuuki. "Elvis was more than 50 years ago, dumbass! What kind of lame dork still listens to Elvis?"

"I do!" Ryuuki protested indignantly. "He was great!"

"Enough, you two," Shou said. He was sitting back in his chair, his shrewd eyes thoughtful on the band's lead. "Very well, you'll have your microphone. Shure makes a modern version, but the look is the same-- that okay?"

Ryuuki brought his arms down from defending his abused head and nodded. "Long as the pickup's good, that's fine."

"No interference with the speakers with the new model," Shou nodded briskly. "I'll have a word with the tech crew and organizers. The limo will come by as usual to deliver you to makeup and wardrobe-- the rest is up to you."

**xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx**

Setup for the concert went without a hitch. Ryuuki was his usual pre-concert self-- preternaturally calm, even subdued. He slumped bonelessly into a chair backstage, his eyes closed. Shuuei tuned and then re-tuned his guitar; Kouyuu played endless and soundless chord progressions in the air.

"Time!" Shou said, and Ryuuki's eyes instantly snapped open. The sudden, scary intensity in them had freaked all of them out the first couple of concerts, but now they were used to it. After the final sound check Kouyuu and Shuuei followed him out and took their places in the darkness. A single light blinked on over Ryuuki's microphone, standing alone at the front of the stage: its retro curves gleamed in the harsh, sudden brightness. Something about that blinding image cast a spell over the packed-in crowd. Voices died, screams of anticipation echoed into nothing.

Incredibly, the silence held as Ryuuki stepped into the spotlight's circle, as Kouyuu's fingers danced the first notes from the keys. Shuuei positioned himself in the darkness as Ryuuki opened his mouth, sang the opening lines into the curved metal body of the mike-- and then he slammed down the first power chord at the very moment that the lights flared blindingly.

The audience was not silent again for the rest of the concert. Kouyuu was the rock-solid foundation of their music, brilliant and perfectly timed. Shuuei knew that he was dead-on, too, but this time no one was looking at him, not even when he was hitting the soul-searing solo riffs that normally brought him all eyes, if only for a little while. But then, he was having a hard time not staring, himself.

Ryuuki didn't leave the microphone for a moment, and didn't need to. He didn't have to perform any acrobatics to keep audience attention, because what he did with the microphone was more than enough. He cupped it in his hands, delicately, and whispered to it. He wrapped his arm around the silver stand in a sensual spiral. He wound the black cord around his arm and in between his long fingers, clenching them into a fist in front of him. He slid the burnished metal across his cheek and down his neck, along his skin to the open collar of his shirt. He arched backwards to bring his whole body against the straight pole. He held it possessively close, resting in the hollow of his shoulder as his hands moved up and down the stand.

At some point towards the end he muscled out of his sweat-soaked buttondown shirt-- one-handed, because apparently he couldn't bear to be out of contact with the mike for even a moment. At that point Shuuei figured it was pretty much incidental-- it didn't seem like the audience could scream any louder, even if Ryuuki _was_ stripping on stage. Going up to join him for the choruses of the next song was probably also incidental, but Shuuei did it anyway, leaning in so both of their faces were close to the pickup, and closing his eyes for good measure.

It turned out that the audience could scream louder.

**xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx**

They finally made it offstage after the second encore, standing in a somewhat overwhelmed silence among the electric cords and plywood crates and frantically running stage crew.

"So," Ryuuki said brightly. "I think that went well." He had forgotten his shirt on stage.

"That-- that was-- that--" Kouyuu apparently didn't know what to say.

"Good work!" Shou came out of nowhere and walloped Shuuei on the back. "Was that your idea, Shuuei?"

"I definitely didn't tell him to make love to his microphone for two hours," Shuuei said, his voice a little strangled.

"Well, it was great! Hakumei!" Shou spied the young photographer walking by in a daze. "Hakumei, my boy, tell me that the camera crew caught all of that. Tell me that you were taking pictures."

Hakumei nodded. "Five gig's worth," he said, clutching his camera. He caught sight of Ryuuki and promptly went red to the tips of his ears.

"Excellent! We're going to the publicity department now. I want posters. A photobook. T-shirts. A DVD special. I want all of it tomorrow. Get some rest, and for god's sake take a shower!" Shou called back to them over his shoulder, already trotting Hakumei out the door to the loading docks.

"How long do you think they'll keep screaming?" Shuuei murmured, wondering at the noise still filtering back from the auditorium. "We already _did_ two encores."

"I think they liked it," Ryuuki said, beaming. "Maybe I'll try that again next time."

"You will _not_," Kouyuu said. "That was _dirty_."

"Hey, it was not!" Ryuuki cried. "And anyway, it was consensual!"

"How can you have consensual sex on stage _with a microphone_?" Kouyuu roared back.

"That is _so_ not what happened! You can't even get to second base with a microphone!"

"Second base, nothing. I think you were well on your way to third," Shuuei noted.

"Do none of you have any sense?" Seiran was there abruptly as always, draping a blanket over Ryuuki's bare shoulders and giving both Shuuei and Kouyuu one of his patented death glares. "Do you want him to catch a cold?"

"I want him to refrain from_ molesting inanimate objects_ on stage!" Kouyuu shouted, and stomped off to see to his piano.

**xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx xOx**

* * *

**Author's note continued:** Hilariously, at tonight's concert there were a number of similarities to this fic, most notably the lead singer stripping on stage (down to his open vest, and later he took off the tour t-shirt he had changed into) and mild fanservice with him and the lead guitarist singing into the same microphone. There was no microphone molestation, though. But there was synchronized headbanging! Oh, Japan, you are full of teh crazy. I also got a free poster because I bought the deluxe CD, because Japan takes the giving and attainment of specialized merchandise to dizzying heights. They tried to teach me about supply and demand in 8th grade economics class, and Japan has shown me that it was all LIES.

Butterfly Cage really needs a drummer. And probably a bassist, but they reaaaaally need a drummer. I can't seem to figure out who it would be, though. But drummers, drummers are teh awesome. You'd never know it, but a drummer with a kit can be a whole band all by herself. I once listened to a drummer practice for two hours and was never bored once.

Seiran is bodyguard and band mom. ;-) He refuses to go on stage, before anyone asks. Ryuuki's working on him, though. We'll see if he gets anywhere.


End file.
